


More of You

by therachan



Series: The Evolution of an Affair [2]
Category: Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therachan/pseuds/therachan
Summary: They're going to have to define the relationship or nothing can progress. Tom has been avoiding it, but Troywantsneeds to talk.
Relationships: Tom Barnaby/Gavin Troy
Series: The Evolution of an Affair [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927774
Comments: 19
Kudos: 17
Collections: Midsomer_Melee





	1. Suddenly, Free Time

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a fic challenge choosing one little moment in time, starting with Never Enough, where Barnaby and Troy are in the midst of the affair but haven't gone much beyond that. Then the question was raised- would they ever? So what was once a one-off turned into a planned trilogy, which may even get a prologue someday. It sort of took on a life of its own. Hopefully it's enjoyable and I did them justice. Comments and critiques are always welcome!
> 
> Thanks to two (nowstfucallicles) for keeping me going on this!

It was supposed to have been a case that dragged on. Tom Barnaby had anticipated some very long hours on this one, an expectation projected from his long list of experiences with these types of blackmail cases. One death already, certainly a homicide, and a second that for some reason he hesitated to call the same. There was something different about it; it just didn’t make sense. And their chief suspect a high-flying pillar of the community with a seemingly water tight alibi in true Midsomer fashion. 

But Tom knew he had done it, years of honed instincts were telling him so. They just needed to find some proof, and the only way that was going to happen was some good old-fashioned, hard-nosed policework. Feet on the ground, door to door if they had to. 

He could already imagine Troy’s face. His sergeant wasn’t averse to hard work of course, but he sometimes didn’t understand the value of this kind of back-to-basics tenacity and the results it could yield. Tom actually rather enjoyed it this kind of policework, so long as it proved itself in the end, and he was sure this would reveal the break they were looking for. 

That is, until he got the phone call. It was late but he was still up, sitting on his couch alone, enjoying some slow sips of his favorite scotch and watching some mindless dribble. It had been a very long day with one thing and another and with plans to be up early and at it again, he knew he should’ve called it a night already. When the phone rang it was so unexpected that he actually startled a bit. He was being called out to the lodge in Aspern Tallow where he met with flashing constabulary lights and the medical examiner’s van. 

Troy was already there. Because it was late, he was dressed casually in jeans and a button up shirt, wrinkled from his slouching across his own couch at home. As usual they were strictly business during case hours in such a crowded area, so Tom met him inside with little greeting. He was anxious to view the body of Martin Carroll, Esquire, their chief suspect who’d just been found dead. The man was seated at his large desk, head laid down quite peacefully as if he’d just fallen asleep. Beside him sat an open prescription bottle of pills and a half-empty bottle of Bowmore. The glass beside his head had been drained, but there was still some moisture left in the bottom. 

“Secobarbital,” Troy said over his shoulder. “On the surface Bullard thinks it’s suicide consistent with barbiturate overdose, combined with the alcohol. But of course, he’ll know more once he’s got him on the table and runs the tox screens. The live-in found him.” Tom was listening but also taking in the room details. This didn’t make sense. Why would he have taken this route? 

“And then there’s this,” Troy said, handing him an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “He left a note.” 

Tom read it through. It had everything in it. The means they’d known, but this outlined the motive and opportunity. All the details of the blackmail and murder, details only the murderer would have known. And the sad truth of the second death which, according to this, had indeed been accidental. She had been his estranged daughter, he had caused her demise. There had been a letter sent to the Echo that was going to expose all, and he had known the police would have been at his door in due time. It had led Carroll to this end, if it all were to be believed. 

“Do you want the really good news?” Troy asked. 

“Delight me, Troy,” Tom said dryly. Though his mind was always quick to balk at any kind of easy answer to a case, the way this was shaking out, he was starting to feel a bit robbed. 

Troy leaned in and pointed, letting Tom look along his arm to the corner of the room. “There are CCTV cameras in every room. We have footage of him doing himself in. It’s a slam dunk, Sir. Job done.” 

He watched his DCI’s face, but instead of seeing satisfaction or relief there, he only saw a sour gloom. 

“Sir?” he said. 

Tom snapped himself out of it and they walked towards the door to make room for forensics. He realized he’d barely spoken but three words upon arrival. “Yes, Troy, it would seem we’ve been cut short.” 

He glared back at the body, angry that justice wouldn’t be served this time, that a very dishonest man had taken the relatively easy way out, and he himself had been cheated of a real win. He knew they’d need to follow up, make sure everything was beyond doubt as they built the case, but his instinct was already telling him they would be closing the door on this one early. 

But besides losing the satisfaction of wheedling out the truth, the investigation’s apparent abrupt end had created… a complication. One he had not been prepared for. 

“But that’s good, isn’t it, Sir?” Troy was asking. They walked out into the cool night, the gravel of the wide front drive crunching under their feet. They stopped a few feet from Tom’s car, out of earshot of the other officers and staff milling around. 

Tom looked at his sergeant, noting his mussed hair, his casual clothes and easy stance with his hands in his pockets. He hardly looked a policeman in this light, just a handsome young man out late at night. 

“Yes, Troy,” he answered. “It’s very good, if we can believe it.” 

“I thought you’d be chuffed,” Troy said, cocking his head a little. “What’s the problem?” 

Indeed. 

The problem was that earlier in the day, Tom had bid goodbye to his wife and daughter at the airport and sent them off on a mini-break to Paris. He had thought he was going to be far too loaded down with the case to take the time off, but they’d understood. Cully had just finished a busy season, and Joyce had been wanting to get away so the quick mother-daughter jaunt had made sense. Tom had not really thought much about it, seeing how busy they’d been at work. He’d been thankful to get a couple nights alone to catch up on sleep before heading out again bright and early. That was what he had told himself, anyway. 

He had not told Troy he was on his own.

Weeks ago, on the now-infamous leek soup and fruit salad night, Troy had wished for a chance like this. Some time, some real _time_ together. Quality time during which Troy had wanted to talk about things, to do… things as he’d put so articulately. Since then they had settled back into comfortable silence on the matter, presumably while they waited for a better chance to come along. Tom had given it some thought as he’d promised, trying to decide what kind of opportunity he could create. He’d thought about a trip away, off for a weekend, just the two of them when the caseload slowed down. It wouldn’t have been terribly difficult to do really; it would be as simple as telling a lie. But he’d balked at actually planning anything thus far. 

And now here had come a chance, clear and free as day. Yet, instead of being ‘chuffed’ at the opportunity, Tom had found himself unable to make what would seem to be an easy choice. 

The truth was, if they finally had the time together, he knew what it was Troy wanted to say. He’d entertained hopes of what it was Troy would want to _do_. What he was afraid of was that if those _things_ came to pass, they both would then suddenly come to a point of no return. As it was right now, if this whatever-it-was had to stop, he felt like it wouldn’t create too many difficulties. It wouldn’t cause too much pain. He’d miss it surely- for though far between, their encounters had stayed fairly regular. Besides the sheer enjoyment of the physical side with his sergeant, Tom had also come to rely on them for that wonderful release of stress, especially if their chance came during one of their heavier cases. 

So what more would he be losing if it all had to stop tomorrow? He was sure they could still somehow slip back into their old way of doing things if they had to. He’d been holding on to that belief like a safety line, for both his and Troy’s sakes. 

He looked at his sergeant, who was waiting on him patiently. Their relationship, their _working_ relationship was extremely important to him. But… he needed the other side too. There was a pull there that had nothing to do with his cognitive mind, and there was no reasoning with it. It wasn’t only sexual, though he fancied it may have been that way in the beginning. There was a need of that connection with Troy, tangled and buried within their multi-faceted bond of teacher to student, of supervisor to subordinate, mentor to mentee. 

However, though he had accepted it on the surface, this line of thought Tom had always managed to scrub before going much further. At this point in time, in this late hour, looking at the tall, virile young man before him who could be his for the taking at a word… Tom told himself sex was still the biggest part of it. And that was what he wanted right now. The thought helped him downplay the risk of the discussion that might take place beforehand. It helped him believe he might be making a mountain out of a mole hill. 

Tom jerked his head, a signal for Troy to step closer. His sergeant obeyed, his handsome face blank with no other thoughts in his head beyond the case at hand. 

“Now that we seem to be on the tail-end of this case, what say we compare notes?” he said quietly. 

Troy’s eyebrows went up, instantly attuned to the change in Tom’s voice and demeanor. He looked around furtively. “What, here?” 

Tom gave him a side-long glance of impatience. “At mine.” He steeled his resolve and threw it out there. “Joyce and Cully are out of town until Sunday.” 

Troy took a moment to absorb this. Tom saw him swallow. “Tonight?” 

He straightened. “Unless you have other plans?” 

“Eh, no!” Troy answered quickly. “I just meant… should I go home first?” In the dim light Tom couldn’t see the flush that had risen, but he could hear it in his voice. “Get some clothes?” 

“How messy do you think we’re going to get, Troy?” Tom couldn’t help himself. Teasing his sergeant was a favorite pastime for him, even with the struggle in his mind right now. 

“I don’t! I only meant-“ 

“I know what you meant,” Tom conceded, easing up on him. He quelled his misgivings. “Let’s finish up here, then yes, get some clothes. I assume you’ll want to stay the night?”


	2. Heavy Conversation

After finally wrapping up at the lodge, he’d given Troy his house keys to meet him there, himself needing to make a stop at the station. If he was going to actually be home for the weekend he was still going to need the stack of files and notes on his desk. Troy didn’t live far so was going to beat him there presumably, even with a stop at his own place. When Tom was finally driving down his street almost an hour later, he passed Troy’s car several houses down, where he’d parked to keep it out of view from any nosey neighbors. 

He found the front door unlocked. He set his burden down on the hall table and bolted it behind himself. “Troy?” he called. 

“Upstairs,” came the distant answer. 

That surprised Tom a little. He glanced down the hall to the lit kitchen as he took off his suit jacket. He’d been prepared to meet Troy in there, to sit at the table, perhaps to have a drink. For some reason he’d envisioned some kind of dignified discussion beforehand. The fact that Troy had already made it upstairs gave him some hope that perhaps his sergeant had decided this wasn’t the time to talk after all. Tom climbed the stairs, feeling a little shame that this was what he was hoping for, if only to stave off what was inevitable. He wasn’t ready. 

He got to the top of the stairs deep in thought, and would have liked to take another moment or two to collect himself but Troy would’ve heard him coming. When he reached his bedroom he stopped in the doorway, hoping beyond hope to see his sergeant stripped and ready to go, light and cheerful and playful. It would mean nothing had crossed his mind beyond the usual frenzy, and they could spend several lovely hours without any deeper meaning or thought. 

Troy was sitting on the side of the bed, Tom’s side as always, his shirt open, shoes kicked off carelessly at the door. But halfway was as far as he’d gotten. 

Despite even this, Tom still had hope it was just the usual nerves that had gotten the better of his sergeant, as they sometimes still did. He had no doubt Troy wanted this with him, his sergeant wasn’t lying to himself anymore. Once he was committed Troy could be almost quixotically eager, and the road to get here hadn’t been a long one. In the background of his thoughts Tom’s memory wandered back to their first kiss, when the relationship abruptly changed into something else. Out on the Mooreberry case in the middle of nowhere on a cold, rainy day. They’d been trapped by the elements far, far from the car across a muddy, sodden airfield. Shelter was an old abandoned airplane hangar while they waited for the rain to let up. That was when they had finally given up pretense. 

After that it had been fairly easy to get here with his sergeant. After, of course, the first several bouts of angst and guilt which always preceded their succumbing to a mutual need of each other. Their interludes had matured at an even rate as the guilt faded; at first they were only simple, shy kisses. Over the course of half a year they’d ripened into moments like their most recent in the last week, when Tom had sunk to his knees in the dark hall of Troy’s modest flat, early one morning when he’d gone to pick him up on a call. He’d taken a huffing Troy down to completion without a drop spilled, a hurried, intense encounter before they had to be off again. Tom had been quite self-satisfied as he drove, for Troy had not been able to string a sentence together until they were at the scene. 

However, while most of the time Troy was downright keen, it had always worried Tom that he could still have some occasional hesitations. For that very reason Tom had early on lost hope of going much further beyond what they had already. Kissing of course, lots of lovely kissing, and using their hands was innocent enough when compared to the more progressive stages of lovemaking. Occasionally Tom had even found he could throw in something a bit different when the moment seemed right and Troy was quite receptive to it, like last week. He felt comfortable trying something like that when he saw no hesitation in those blue eyes. But there had never been a doubt in Tom’s mind that going all the way, that is, actual _penetration_ with Troy would be a long time coming, if it ever did. He simply had never been sure the younger man would ever be able to get there. Those rare little hesitations seemed proof enough that Troy still wasn’t one hundred percent committed, and could therefore still go back to the time before if he wanted to. 

Tom had surprised himself how often he indulged the fantasy though, more and more frequently of late. Unused as he was to the strength of such a desire at his age, there were times when he positively ached with the need to know. What it would be like to have Troy underneath him? How lovely would he look? How would he feel? Taste? What kind of sounds would he make? 

But despite this burning desire, he had told himself it had to be enough to stop where they had. Whatever Troy could give him and still be able to look him in the eye, that had to be enough. He was happy... enough. 

Until Troy had brought up those damned _things_ and changed everything. 

His sergeant stood up as Tom came in. He gave a smile. It was easy, but Tom could see it was just a little too bright to be true. He knew Troy’s smiles. It was in that moment that Tom realized, standing there looking at his sergeant, that the point of no return had already passed. Without him even noticing it. That night when Troy had asked him for more time, Tom realized something had already changed. 

Tom loosened his tie as he schooled his face to calm and serenity. It appealed to his pride to remain in absolute control of himself at all times, but it was so much more important now that he felt himself completely unhorsed, as it were. Never in their relationship had he felt Troy to have more of the upper hand than this moment, before his treasonous mind wondered if he hadn’t had it for some time now. 

He chastised himself for wallowing in these kinds of thoughts. It was unfair to Troy, who had never been anything but honest about what he wanted, even if it did take him some time to figure it out. Tom was the one who had been both deceiving and deceived, but he knew he was a better man than that. 

He reached out and touched the younger man’s face. He saw Troy’s eyebrow go up slightly in mild confusion, then came the almost imperceptive tilt of his head into Tom’s palm and that decided it for him. If Troy could muster up the courage to actually say what he wanted to say, then Tom knew he could have the courage to hear it. The rest would have to be worked out later. 

He dropped his hand away with a sigh. 

“So,” Troy said, shrugging at the awkwardness. That lovely familiar flush had risen to his cheeks. 

“So,” Tom echoed expectantly, holding Troy’s gaze and giving away absolutely no indication of the turmoil in his mind. In fact, he did it so well that those blue eyes flicked away from his, and Troy seemed at a loss of how to begin. He looked helplessly back at Tom for reassurance, and the balance of power shifted again. 

Tom had mercy on him. He held his wrists out, cufflinks turned up. “Help me with these? Unless you’ve something else in mind?” 

“Eh, no,” Troy said, sounding relieved. “I mean, yes-“ He stepped closer and bent his head a little with the task. Tom watched him closely, letting his eyes wander along the side of the younger man’s face, tracing the line of his jaw, the little cleft in his chin. Down his neck until his view was obscured by the collar of his open shirt. Tom felt heat rise in his chest when he thought about leaning in to kiss him there, to feel the roughness of his five o’clock shadow and smell the scent of the long day on him, mixed with remnants of his morning cologne. Troy’s scent had always drawn him, like a vice he couldn’t shake. He was able to resist the urge though, instead letting Troy finish his task uninterrupted. He dropped the cufflinks on the bedside table. 

“So,” Tom said again in his usual, easy tone. “What’s in store for tonight, then? With all this precious time we suddenly have?” 

His sergeant gave a little lopsided smile. “Well, I don’t have anything really specific, Sir,” he said. Tom read through the lie his nervous unease; it was almost as bad as some of their first times together, when Troy _wanted_ but was unsure of how to _get_. The trick was to get whatever was on his mind out of his mouth. It was a little absurd, since that was usually never much of a problem. 

Not unkindly, Tom felt it was some payback to let Troy to squirm a little, given the amount of unrest he’d manage to conjure in his usually unrufflable DCI. But he also knew the longer he let the younger man agonize the higher likelihood he would lose his nerve, and he mustn’t let that happen. Not now. But how to get him to get on with it? The answer was unequivocally simple. Troy must be reminded why they were here. Why he’d wanted this time in the first place. 

Tom reached out and slowly pulled the shirt off Troy’s shoulder. His sergeant slid his eyes to Tom’s face again, their crystal blue becoming a little darker with his rising desire. It was almost too easy to switch him on. Tom’s hand came up his bare shoulder, up around the back of his neck to pull him closer. When their lips met it was nothing to coax his mouth open a bit wider, to savor the feeling of coming home again. His taste was warm and familiar, his kisses quite sincere. He rested his hands on Tom’s shoulders, gripping them gently before sliding them down and around him into a tight embrace. He pressed himself against Tom, a move so familiar he was probably hardly aware he was doing it. It was always one of Tom’s favorite moments. 

“Do you want to talk before, or after?” Tom asked against Troy’s lips. After a moment Troy pulled himself away as if it were the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. In the quiet room their lips made a little sound when they separated. 

“I think we should talk before,” he said, his breathing a little heavy as he let Tom go. He looked down. “Bloody hell, Sir,” he muttered, his hand darting to adjust himself. Tom could just see the outline of his cock against his jeans already. He’d felt it against his lower belly, but it was always something special to see it, or the hint of it, straining against the cloth. A not-so-secret secret. 

“The blessings and curses of youth,” Tom chuckled quietly and it earned him an embarrassed side glance. His own arousal was there as well but as usual he could control it much better. He sat down on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable. “I’m all yours,” he said, trying not to let any extra meaning hang on to the words. 

Troy stood where he was for a moment, looking charmingly disheveled with his shirt showing one shoulder. “Maybe we should talk after then,” he said, reaching out. 

“No,” Tom said quickly. “It’s too late to change your mind now. Come on.” 

His sergeant rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar tic. “Well, to be honest I hadn’t really thought about what I wanted to say,” he admitted. “I suppose I felt it would sort of come to me.” His brows knit in annoyance, and Tom could see that what he had hoped for had not happened at all. Nothing about this was coming easily. Troy moved around the room a little before stopping and looking back at Tom, lost again and appealing to him for help. It would always be natural to look to Tom for guidance, even in this. 

“You said there were things you wanted.” Tom prompted gently. 

“I know.” 

He spread his hands. “Well?” 

Troy sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said. 

“Troy.” A little warning of patience ebbing. Then, more gently, “Just tell me. What is it that you want?” 

“I want... well, _more_ ,” he said finally. 

“More?” 

“Yes!” Tom was surprised at the force behind the word. Troy was getting frustrated with himself. 

“More what?” he asked, keeping his own voice calm and even. Patient. 

This didn’t help his poor sergeant, however. “Just more,” he said helplessly. 

Time for some tough love. “God’s sake, man,” he said. “Out with it.” 

“More... _you_!” Troy finally stammered. “More time. More sex. More-” He clammed up before another word could leave his mouth. He paced around again, another familiar little habit when he was working through something, as if he could only think clearly while on his feet. 

But the vehemence left as quickly as it had risen. Tom watched the frustration turn into sheepishness and play across Troy’s face before he spoke again. 

“I watched a video. A while ago.” he said finally. Then added, “On the internet,” as if clarification was really needed. 

Tom had raised his eyebrows despite himself. This was unexpected. “Did you?” He forced his voice to stay light. Then, not able to help himself, though he knew damn well, “What kind of video?” 

Troy gave him an exasperated look. “A _pornographic_ one,” he answered, lowering his voice. “With… blokes.” Then he added quickly, “I was curious. Don’t get me wrong, I like what we do. A lot. I just thought maybe there was more to it? I mean, I knew there was, I just didn’t know, eh, the specifics.” 

“Specifics, Troy?” 

“You know. Going all the way.” 

Given the torment it had taken to get to this moment Tom suddenly felt quite at sea, trying not to imagine his sergeant watching such a thing, possibly even with pen and paper in hand. For the idea of Troy seeing something like that, actually seeking it out on his own was so outlandish that Tom had to resist the real urge to laugh, to release this tension they’d been swimming in. But he couldn’t do that, Troy wouldn’t understand the humor he saw in it, he would only feel himself being ridiculed. The mirth finally died completely when he considered Troy’s quite serious face. It was something, _really_ something for him to have done it. 

“And did you... like it?” Tom asked. 

At this Troy shook his head. “Not really,” he admitted, dropping his gaze. “Watching it… it didn’t really do anything for me. I really wasn’t able to imagine doing anything like _that_.” 

Sobered, Tom watched him closely. He’d had to staunch the disappointment that had suddenly risen at Troy’s answer; it had been harder to hear than he had thought it would be. 

But Troy was pacing again. 

“But then I started thinking,” he went on. “Maybe there would be a situation where… I mean, maybe that sort of thing _was_ something I could... Because it would be with you.” He looked at Tom. “It would be different if it was with you.” 

“Troy-“ 

“And then I had to think, why?” Troy went on quickly, as if he had to get it out now or risk losing the words forever. “Why is it different? You know this isn’t anything I’ve done before, or ever wanted to do. But you-“ he paused. “I’m so up for it when it’s you, more than with any girl before. When we’re at it, it’s just so…” he sighed and spread his hands when the words finally failed him. 

Tom sat quietly, hands clasped between his knees, absorbing. 

Troy had stopped pacing and came to kneel in front of him, his hands on Tom’s knees. “The truth is, doing something like what I saw… Because it’s you, I would. I’d _want_ to. And I realized it’s because sometimes you can do things you wouldn’t normally do... if it’s someone you love.” His voice had become a little rough as the words tumbled out. He dropped his head. “I don’t know when it happened. It just did. And it’s been so miserable since that I felt the only thing I could do was tell you, and damn everything else to bloody hell.” 

Tom stared at his bowed head for a few moments, processing. When Troy looked up his face was bright red and he was actually sweating a little. 

Of course, this wasn’t a total shock; Tom knew his sergeant very well. And yet he had blatantly refused to prepare, really prepare for it. He’d put off this moment until he couldn’t anymore, and now his defenses were roiling against the implications. It had been said out loud. It was between them now. Troy could never go back to dating women and ever be absolutely sure of himself again. And he likely would never take on another male lover after Tom. So, with Tom so much older and Troy with practically his whole adult life ahead of him, what kind of _joie de vivre_ was left after this? What had he done? How had he not seen the responsibility he was taking on in that old forgotten place that cold rainy day? 

And then, a salvatory thought. Perhaps Troy didn’t really know for sure. How could he trust his sergeant, who in many ways still had so much to learn about life, to understand what he was saying? What he was asking for? Did he really understand that dangerous little word? 

“Sir?” Troy asked in the silence. 

“Tom,” Tom corrected gently. “I think we’re far past ‘Sir’ for this conversation, Troy.” 

“Gavin,” Troy answered equally as quietly. 

Tom nodded. “Have you been in love before, Gavin?” he asked. 

Troy knitted his eyebrows, instantly deeply insulted. “I’m not some school boy with my first crush,” he stated, a spark of his usual cheek. He sounded more sure right then than he had since they’d started. “I know how I feel.” 

“All right, I’m sorry,” Tom said, holding his hands up. “But you’ll forgive me if I take into consideration what it means to _this_.” He gestured between them. 

Troy was shaking his head. “I know. I just want more, if there can be more. I don’t want this to just be a fling, if that’s how you’ve been seeing it.” He paused. “Sexually or otherwise. I couldn’t do something like what I saw if I didn’t think you… cared more for me too.” 

Tom cocked his head a little. “Go… all the way, you mean?” 

Troy’s cheeks reddened again. “Yes,” he answered finally, looking into Tom’s eyes questioningly. “I’d trust you to tell me the truth. And not just say it to try to get me into bed.” 

Tom closed his eyes for a second. And here it was. He was being asked to define this thing between them. He was being asked if he loved his lover. “It’s just not that easy,” he said finally. He could hear the patronization in his voice though he hadn’t meant it to sound that way. Troy had certainly heard it too. 

Tom tried again. “I do care for you a great deal, Gavin. More than I’ve the right to say. Even if all this had to stop tomorrow and we could never be together again, I’d still want you to know that. I would still feel the same.” 

Troy stood up and started pacing again. Tom felt the sudden space between them like a grief. 

“What about the future? Have you thought about that?” he asked quietly. 

“It’s not just your responsibility to worry about that,” Troy said in stubborn resolution. “I can make my own decisions about it.” 

“Then there’s our job and our working relationship. My wife and daughter, and my home. The lives we’ve been living outside of this thing.” 

“I’m not asking any of that to change,” Troy said more quietly, stopping. “I don’t _want_ any of that to change.” 

Tom looked up at him. “I don’t know that I _could_ if you asked me to,” he said softly. He was feeling at a loss. A complete loss going up against Troy’s will. He wasn’t used to meeting resistance there, but his sergeant was resolute in a way that had never been directed at him before. There had never been a time when Troy didn’t acquiesce to Tom’s better judgement, and his willpower kicked impotently against the convictions he was being faced with. 

“Gavin-“ 

Troy’s blue eyes were watching him closely, reading. “Why can’t you just tell me?” he asked. The pertinence of the question itself was startling. 

“You’re confusing ‘can’t’ with ‘shouldn’t’,” Tom answered gruffly, working to regain control. “It’s different for me; I can’t just go falling in love-“ As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. He closed his eyes, damning his lack of tact when he was usually so good with it. The highly charged conversation was causing him to make mistakes. 

“ _Just_ falling in love?” came the expected answer. “Do you think it was that easy?” Troy’s hackles were up and Tom didn’t blame him. He’d gone out on a limb, exposed himself and his innermost feelings only to be met with such an utterly unacceptable answer. Now he was firing up in a familiar way, something Tom had seen him do over and over again when there was someone or something to be defended or protected. 

“Of course not,” Tom said. “I know it’s not. Believe me.” 

His quiet answer brought Troy’s ire down. His sergeant came back, settled himself on his knees before him again and said, “I know what you’re risking. But I’m risking something too. I’m risking my relationship with you. It’s just as important to me. It’s everything to me.” 

“I know,” Tom said again. “But _think_ , Gavin. What happens when you get promoted away? It will happen you know, you won’t be able to stay in Midsomer.” 

“We’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Troy answered, as cavalier as a young man with years ahead of him could be. 

“And besides that, I’m almost thirty years your senior. What about the future?” 

“Then I’d rather us be able to have it away as much as possible before you’re one of those old wrinklies.” There was the ghost of a smile on Troy’s face. He’d detected a chink in the armor once the real reasons had started to come out. 

Tom, deep in his own thoughts, ignored the jibe. “Sometimes you still hesitate,” he said finally. “When we’re together. I had taken it to mean you still weren’t sure of everything.” 

“I won’t anymore,” Troy said, his voice quite confident and matter-of-fact. He moved to sit down next to Tom. “Look, Sir,” he said. “Tom. I _know_ what you’re afraid of, and you needn’t be. If these are the things that are worrying you, they don’t matter to me. If they did, we wouldn’t have started this in the first place, eh?” He put an arm over Tom’s shoulders and leaned in close. 

“ _Are_ they worrying you?” His voice was very low, intimate. 

Tom sighed. “Yes,” he admitted quietly. It was late, he was tired. He looked at Troy and understood this had been a weight on him as well, and that he was taking on just as much as he was asking Tom to. Relatively speaking, it was still everything he had. Just because he didn’t have as many ties as Tom did didn’t mean it would hurt any less to be left with nothing. It wasn’t fair to compare who had more to lose any longer. And as for the future, Troy was right. It was his to worry about, and he had already made his decision on that. Tom had to trust him. It was time. 

Suddenly Tom felt like there was nothing left to fight against. And what would be the use? Troy knew his true feelings, as certainly as he knew his own- that’s what had made his sergeant so angry in the first place. It was time to stop prevaricating and let whatever would happen, happen. 

“You don’t have to say it then,” Troy said gently. “If you care enough to worry so much about all that stuff, well, that’s enough for me.” He nuzzled Tom’s temple. “Is that all right?” 

Tom nodded. He felt off-balance, as if he’d been out-maneuvered, but not exactly defeated. He was just surprised that of the two of them, Troy had been the one who’d mastered the situation faster and better than himself. 

“Now,” Troy was saying, his hand sneaking up to the buttons of Tom’s shirt. “Have I put you off with this kind of talk? Or can we still finish what we’ve started?” Going down one by one he popped the buttons apart. His lips lightly touched Tom’s neck, sending little thrills down to his core. 

“We haven’t started yet,” Tom growled almost angrily, his hand coming around the back of Troy’s neck and forcefully pulling him close.


	3. Consummation

The kiss was rough. After this deep upheaval Tom was feeling the need to regain some sort of control over the situation, to right the normal balance of their relationship. He was prepared to have to fight for it, to make a show of his authority, but he encountered no resistance when he pushed Troy back on the bed. He settled atop him easily, sinking his hips down between Troy’s open legs. 

He heard the groan against his lips as he let his weight down. Only a couple of times before had they had the luxury of this kind of position, instead of being forced by circumstance to stay upright. Troy’s response was just as intoxicating now as it had been before, maybe even more so because Tom knew it could lead to more this time. He fed off Troy’s mouth and neck, trailing kisses along his jaw and behind his ear. The younger man’s arms held tightly around his neck before they swept down his back and pulled his shirt up. His hands were hot on Tom’s bare skin. 

After a moment he forced himself to sit back so Troy could get the rest of his shirt off, shrugging out of his own quickly before coming down again, this time skin to skin. He traveled down Troy’s chest, licked around his erect little nipples, rubbed them between his finger and thumb. Troy arched a little, his breathing louder as he looked down, watching. Tom snaked a hand farther down between them to feel Troy’s cock straining against its confines but he wasn’t going to free it just yet. He ran his hand up and down over the denim until he felt his sergeant’s hips start to lift a little, to try to gain more pressure. 

“God,” Troy whispered, getting himself up on his elbow and pulling Tom close so that he could kiss him again. Without separating their lips he rolled them over and Tom allowed himself to be put on his back. Troy’s leg hooked over his and pushed up against his cock, just roughly enough to elicit a groan into his mouth. Tom was already so hard in anticipation and slightly appalled by the strength of it. But the mere idea of bedding Troy properly was driving him almost senseless. 

Troy was kissing his chest now, paying attention as always to his nipples, then coming back up for more intoxicating kisses, distracting him enough between the two that with one hand he’d opened Tom’s trousers and was pulling him out before he’d even realized it. His hand was hot, strong and expert. His long fingers wrapped around the shaft and started their easy stroke up and down. Every now and then he would break their kisses to look down at what he was doing, to watch his hand stroke Tom’s cock as if it were a source of endless fascination for him. Tom liked to watch too, propped up on his elbows, eyes half-lidded in arousal, dipping his head back with a groan here and there as Troy’s hand tightened and twisted ever so in a brisk, unbroken rhythm. 

“Troy,” he said, slipping back into their familiar language. Staying power was one of his strong points, but like this even he wouldn’t be able to hold out very long. And there was so much more he wanted to do. “Troy, stop-“ He put his hand over his sergeant’s to stop its strokes, taking a moment to catch his breath. He met Troy’s eyes and the younger man smiled. It was almost… indulgent. 

“Cheeky bugger,” Tom mumbled. 

“I just like to see you enjoying yourself,” he answered, grinning. “It’s… sexy.” 

Tom pulled at Troy’s waistband and belt. “Get these off,” he said a little grumpily. 

His sergeant obeyed, sliding off the bed and unbuckling his belt and fly. He quickly dropped the rest of his clothes away and stood there for a moment, watching Tom’s eyes look over his body. His form was tall and lean, and his cock stood out incongruously forward from its long vertical lines. Troy’s hand darted down and gave it a test stroke or two, settling the tightened skin around its shaft before he climbed onto the bed again. He helped to tug off the rest of Tom’s clothing so they could finally lay down, flesh to flesh. 

Tom rolled him over again easily and shoved his cock against Troy’s thigh, rough on himself but it was a delicious sort of crush. He reached his hand down for Troy’s cock and took his mouth again. He liked Troy moaning into him like this, liked to feel his body try to arch up but meet with the resistance of his weight. He liked to feel himself on top, pressing down, powerful and strong, and feel Troy give in to him easily, unquestioningly. He began to rub his own cock against Troy’s thigh, slow and steady as he stroked the one in his hand. 

“Uhnnn,” Troy groaned, jutting his hips up. “Yes, keep going-“ He had a hand behind Tom’s head, fingers clutching into his short-cropped hair. 

“Are you ready to finish already?” Tom said into his ear. 

Troy opened his eyes. Tom, still stroking, could tell he was trying hard to focus on him. Those blue eyes were dilated almost completely in this dim light and they looked a little crazed, a little desperate. 

“No,” Troy breathed, “Not yet. I want to…” he trailed off with another groan. 

Tom kept his hand going and gave him a minute to come back, but when Troy seemed lost in the waves again, he leaned down and said, “You want to what?” He wasn’t so much teasing his sergeant this time, though that was part of it in payment for his earlier lip. But the better part of him still wanted to be sure this was what Troy wanted. Before he even tried, he needed to know Troy was sure. 

“Stop,” Troy hissed, grabbing and stopping his hand. He took a few seconds to calm his breathing. After that he was able to look at Tom again with clearer eyes. “I want to try it,” he said. “If you do.” 

Tom had to give a little private smile. “Of course I do,” he said in his low voice, made gruff by his arousal and the unspoken words behind the spoken ones. “I’ve wanted to for a long time. A very long time, Troy.” 

His sergeant smiled. It was shy at first, then got a little broader and he reached for Tom, pulling him close again. Tom pressed him back and gave in to more kisses, more tender than they had been before. But he knew it was up to him to make the next move, or Troy might try to stay here forever. After a bit, he disentangled himself with some effort and got up and away from the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom, found what he was he was looking for under the sink and emerged again. 

His sergeant looked at the little jar. “Is it going to hurt?” he asked quite seriously. 

Tom came back to the bed. “It can,” he said gently. “That’s what this is for.” He saw the doubt in Troy’s face and said, “But it can also feel very good.” 

“Have you ever done it before? I mean… with a man?” 

“A very long time ago,” Tom answered, memories flashing from the wild days of his youth, fleeting and without meaning compared to here and now. “But I promise I remember how.” 

Troy half-smiled again but it was still unsure around the edges. Tom put the jar down on the bedside table. “We don’t have to,” he said gently. 

The doubt disappeared from Troy’s face quickly, replaced with haughty resolution. “No. I want to,” he said. To reinforce his words he backed up onto the bed more to make plenty of room. Tom’s heart jumped into his throat watching him as he spread his knees so carelessly to do so. He caught a glimpse of that secret little place, kept so private even when everything else was so on display. Seeing it, even the hint of it, pushed his desire into high drive again and he followed Troy up the bed, wordlessly pushing him back into the pillows and taking over his mouth once more, this time with rough insistence. 

Troy yielded again easily and his arms came around Tom, lightly at first before tightening, their strength surprising. Tom lay down between his legs, pressing his weight down and shifting so that his cock was pressed against Troy’s and he began to thrust his hips slowly against him, rubbing in just that right way, a move they had perfected but its effects were tenfold like this- no bothersome clothes, the sweet pressure of his weight, the heat between their slickening bodies and always these fervid kisses with tongues licking deep into each other. Tom pushed himself up on his arms some so he could look down between them, gain his bearings. He wanted to see their cocks together, watch them rub back and forth with his slow, easy movements. Preparing his rhythm. He watched Troy’s hips rising to meet him, the thatch of private hair starting to glisten, the tip of his cock shining with precome. 

“Sir,” Troy breathed into his ear. There was desperation creeping into his hoarse voice. 

Tom reached and fumbled for the little jar. He sat back on his heels to concentrate on popping it open, his breathing heavy, their dripping cocks straining below. When he’d finally gotten it open he dipped his fingers into the gel and coated his palm, then swabbed down the shaft of his cock, coating it generously and suppressing a groan at his own touch around the sensitive tip. 

Troy was watching him, lying back on the pillows, his knees open wide unashamedly. He shifted unquestioningly when Tom pulled a pillow out from the pile under him and shoved it under his hips. Slightly lifted at that angle, it provided a full on view of what was to come. 

“Lord, Troy,” Tom breathed at the sight. His sergeant gave a genuine grin. 

Tom shifted forward and leaned in, his slick cock pushing downward, following the curve of Troy’s arse until he could feel he was near. His mouth was tearing at Troy’s again, working to distract him. He’d found the place; he could tell by how Troy moved his body. He moved his slick hand down to help guide himself in. He kissed the younger man’s ear and whispered into it, “Deep breath.” 

He made the push, slow and steady. Tom heard the sharp intake of breath and the quick guttural groan into his neck, but nothing that told him to stop. Troy’s hands were gripping his shoulders and while his knuckles were white, they were still holding him, pulling him closer. The tight pressure around his cock sent stars behind his closed eyes. Both pleasurable and painful, it was almost too much. 

Recovering himself with some effort, he pulled back a little and looked down into dark blue eyes. “Okay?” he panted. 

Troy nodded quickly but he was wincing. 

“Try to relax. Push against me,” Tom whispered a little breathlessly. He instantly felt the change and saw Troy’s face ease a bit. He waited a few more moments to let him get used to it, watching his sergeant’s chest heave, showing the outline of his ribs and the musculature of his tense abdomen. Yes. God, it felt good. So damned good. So hot and tight. 

He began to move. The gel did its job well once Troy learned how to ease the tension, and as ever he was a fast learner. Once Tom was sure he was all right he began to pump into him more quickly, short strokes at first. But steadily his tempo rose and gained more depth as he began having to fight to control himself. Troy was huffing a breath with every thrust, white teeth flashing, eyes closed, his face and chest flushed red and beginning to shine. He’d buried his face against Tom’s neck at the beginning but now loosened his grip and laid back on the pillows some, head pushed back into them, back arching up, cock bobbing up and down with the rocking of his body. Christ, what a sight. 

Tom knew this couldn’t last long. The rhythm of his hips became ragged, almost uncontrolled as he felt the first waves start to pull him along. His hand closed around Troy’s bouncing cock and he drove it in time with his own thrusts as best he could. It only took a few moments before Troy hoarsely cried out and came forcefully into Tom’s hand, hips jerking, spurting hot come between them. Watching this unfold beneath him, feeling the spasms of the body he was buried within brought Tom over the edge as well. He bit out a loud, rough groan and came hard, deep, deep inside.


	4. Afterglow

It was some moments before he raised his head from Troy’s chest, when the aftershocks had faded and they’d both caught their breath. He was met with a warm, lazy smile and serene blue eyes. His sergeant was comfortably pressed into the pillows like a little nest, his hair tousled, neck and face still shining with the sweat of their exertions and his limbs heavy and forgotten. Gavin Troy enjoying the afterglow was something to behold. 

Tom leaned up and kissed him. In doing so he felt himself slip out as his body returned to repose, and his sergeant gave a little grunt. He could then feel the mess between them, and his brain kicked over into gear again. 

“We’ll need to clean up,” he said. He felt heavy. Weariness was settling in fast. 

Troy nodded, finally working his way out of his pillow bed and sitting up. He looked down at himself, then back at Tom. “Wow,” was all he could say. 

Tom chuckled. “Indeed.” Slightly less messy of the two of them, he maneuvered himself off the bed and grabbed a towel from the laundry bin. He swiped it quickly down himself and handed it to Troy so he wouldn’t drip on the carpet when he got up. He jerked his head towards the bathroom. “You go clean up first,” he said. 

While he waited, Tom pulled off the coverlet and tossed it in the corner. Next time they would have to think ahead a little and prepare, he couldn’t go dry cleaning the bedclothes every time they made love up here. Luckily the rest of the bed was unsullied, and was soon made up again with a spare comforter from the hall closet. 

For several minutes he stood looking down at it. He’d felt the familiar little twinge, muted and buried. His marital bed. Now laden with the memories of a different body than the one he’d taken vows to cherish within it. It was somehow different now with the level of consummation they had reached. 

Tom sighed to himself. Perhaps they should make more use of Troy’s flat, at least until he could settle this revived feeling of betrayal within his conscience. He’d been able to do it before. He would work to do it again. 

“Are you all right?” Troy asked behind his shoulder, startling him. Standing there naked, he was scrubbing his hair dry. 

“Oh, yes,” Tom answered lightly, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He gently brushed past Troy to grab a shower himself, disappearing quickly into the bathroom. He didn’t need to worry Troy so soon after with something like this; it was his burden to carry. 

When he emerged, he saw his sergeant was just turning the bed down. He was dressed in a thin white t-shirt and loose striped pajama pants, hair mussed, looking irresistibly charming. He stepped back and looked at Tom a little uncertainly. 

“Is this all right?” he asked. “I could sleep on the couch if you’d rather. I mean, if it’s too weird-“ 

“Don’t be silly,” Tom said, pulling on his own pajamas, a mature man’s matching set. “It’s all right.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Tom slid into the bed, familiar and warm. His bones were tired, but his mind was even more so. “Get in bed, Troy,” he commanded. He settled in comfortably on his back and waited. 

Troy hesitated a moment more. Then, he reached to switch off the bedside lamp and crawled in as well. Despite his apparent misgivings, he snuggled right up against Tom, practically sharing his pillow, his arm cast possessively over his belly. Tom heaved a sigh and had to let his disquiet go in the face of such a simple act of ease and comfort and familiarity. 

“Night, Sir,” Troy mumbled close to his ear, sounding half-asleep already. Within moments his breathing had evened out and his whole body relaxed against Tom’s with the weight of sleep. 

Tom turned his head just a bit, his cheek brushing Troy’s forehead and closed his eyes. He knew they would work it out. They would have to; there was no going back after this. And strangely, the thought didn’t really trouble him now. It was what it was, and the only thing to do was move forward with it. Because to go back, to lose this feeling of utter peace lying next to Troy’s warm body, sated beyond measure, was worse to him than any pang of guilt or anxiety his conscience could come up with. It was worth it, he thought sleepily. Whatever time they had would be worth it.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a light little glimpse of the morning after. Couldn't help it, sorry.

Tom woke up to a bright bedroom, sprawled across the bed and quite alone. He sat up drowsily, blinking in the morning light that shone through the window. 

“Troy?” he grumbled. Nothing. He peered at the clock. Almost nine a.m. He hadn’t slept in like this in… well, years. As his senses woke up he began to smell the coffee and breakfast wafting up to the second floor. 

It took some minutes to get himself up and out of bed. Last night’s exertions, coupled with sleeping in, had taken their toll on a body already prone to stiff joints. Tom thought wryly how he could now add sore muscles to that as well as he lumbered into the washroom. He could hear someone banging around in the kitchen downstairs, followed by a distant curse, decidedly masculine. He smiled. 

He finally meandered into the kitchen to find Troy there as expected. He was still in his pajamas with a tea towel over his shoulder as he stood turning some sizzling sausages in a pan. When he saw Tom come in he turned with a wide grin, sincere in its cheerfulness. It was infectious. 

“Morning!” he quipped. He showed Tom the pan. “Just in time. Full English breakfast. The coffee’s there.” 

Tom sank down at the table with a mug. “What time were you up, Troy?” he asked, still a little bleary. 

Troy looked up, thinking. “About seven?” 

“And what time did we go to sleep?” 

“I reckon at least half-three. Maybe four?” 

Tom grumbled into his coffee. It was just like the young to be able to shag to exhaustion, get just a few hours’ sleep and wake up with the sun shining out of their… He snorted a laugh to himself. 

His sergeant cocked his head but didn’t ask. He continued milling around and Tom watched him contentedly, the feeling of domestic bliss settling around them like a light blanket, smooth and gentle, covering up the messy sheets below that would have to be straightened out later. He was more than happy to just enjoy these moments for what they were. 

He gazed down at the steaming plate Troy set in front of him, mouth watering a little. “I really didn’t know you could cook,” he said, digging in. 

Troy shrugged, mouth already full. “Bachelor life,” he said after swallowing. “I had to learn. Canteen lunches are easy enough, but I get hungry late at night.” 

“This will not be good for my waistline,” Tom said. 

Troy focused on cutting his sausages, eyebrows lifted, quite nonchalant. “I think it’ll be all right, Sir. Provided you get, you know, lots of exercise.” There was the slightest hint of a smile. “In fact, I can help you get some after breakfast, if you like.” 

“Aren’t you sore, Troy?” Tom asked, a little incredulously. He’d remembered with some regret that he had not been very gentle last night, and while Troy had seemed to enjoy it, Tom worried he might have thought differently of it in the light of day. 

But Troy just shrugged as he downed his mushrooms. “Well, yeah a bit,” he said. “But it’s ok.” He glanced up at Tom, a smile hovering as he set down his fork. “I imagine it gets better with practice. And maybe position?” 

Tom coughed into his coffee. Troy stretched back lazily and put hands behind his head, a self-satisfied smile on his face. 

They finished the meal in due course and moved to the sink together to do the washing up. Troy was incandescent the way he chattered away, flirting much more openly than he ever had in the past. Of course, in the past they had never had time like this, to wallow in their bond, which after last night was even more steeped in warmth and affection. 

But even amid the good-natured teasing, Tom still felt the little tug of caution in the back of his mind. 

“Troy,” he said when they’d finished and hung up the tea towels. “We’ve got to stay… grounded about this. We can pretend all we want for today but come Sunday, you know things will have to go back to the way they were before. At least in terms of our… being together.” 

His sergeant’s face was placid and understanding. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’ve got no illusions, I promise.” He stepped closer to Tom. “But like you said, for today, can’t we just enjoy it?” He dropped his voice and leaned intimately close. “Do you know how lovely it felt waking up next to you this morning?” 

Tom narrowed his eyes. “No, I don’t,” he said flatly. 

Troy laughed. “I’m sorry.” He kissed Tom gently, almost sweetly, pressing his body close. “I didn't want to wake you, you looked so peaceful. But I won’t leave next time, I promise.” 

“You can leave,” Tom said solemnly, leaning up for another kiss. “Just cook breakfast and come back.” 

Troy’s chuckle was breathy against his neck and Tom gave over with a sigh, the heat rising slowly in him. His sergeant’s hand was already tugging at Tom’s pajama shirt. 

“So how about it?” Troy murmured into his ear. “Bit of leg-over? Or are you too tired?” 

Too tired. This prat. “Yes, Troy,” Tom said, suddenly spinning him around and pushing him towards the doorway. “I’d say more than a bit.” 

Troy let himself be pushed down the hallway. “Which position are we going to try this time?” 

“If you don’t watch the cheek, Sergeant, _all_ of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I hope I did them justice! As always, comments and criticisms are most welcome!


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